


You need a home

by TwistedNym



Series: Some of us die young [8]
Category: Red Queen - Victoria Aveyard
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-10
Updated: 2018-04-10
Packaged: 2019-04-21 07:18:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,687
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14279814
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TwistedNym/pseuds/TwistedNym
Summary: He doesn't know how late it is when he leans against the pay phone and calls the only number he knows straight out of his head. He's never been good with numbers but he had it written on his arms for weeks and he remembers how many times he already had dialed without actually ever calling.





	You need a home

After at least one approval of his choices, Thomas becomes sort of regular around the house. There's a small almost daily gap when Maven is alone or just with Cal around. Thomas still tries to avoid any more talks with Maven's brother but at least he opens the door for him. He's still feeling monitored. And also he's thrown out after a certain time of day. Cal could make that only more clear if he was chasing Thomas with a broom. Not that he'd need to. He's friendly about it but Thomas is pretty sure being on his bad side can end very ugly. And so he tries to stay in good terms,for now.

At least there is no pretending behind closed doors. Everyone knows their place and they live with it. Or choose to ignore each other, at least in Thomas case.

Once or twice he tries to sneak back in through Maven's window. One time he gets the wrong one and the other time he almost gets caught and his own traitorous beloved boyfriend shoves him back outside and snaps the window shut.

Also, every Wednesday, he's not called for at all. Those days are the worst because while it's none of his business he's still missing like a puppy on a doorstep. He stops by a few times but Maven's mood is so bad he doesn't even want to talk and Thomas gets the hint.

That whole routine is becoming familiar and it's giving him something to hold onto.

He pesters all the other poor souls that know him. Mainly Shade or Farley or whoever is hanging out at her apartment.

The warmth is still nice. Not being soaked in rain is pretty good.

Just hanging with his boyfriend has its benefits.

He's not even sad or mad that he's practically thrown out a lot of 'I love you's and never got more than a distant and very faint reply. Well, he hasn't really said those three words but he's sure the hints are too big and 'being in love' is basically just other coded for all the same things. Or is it not?

He can be pressuring, he knows. He doesn't want it to go wrong.

There is a fragile line they both walk. Thomas asks too many questions sometimes, he can't help it. Maven retreats from it, behind the safety of unbreakable ice and silence, sometimes a very thin-skinned snap.

When Maven tries to care, Thomas can get pissy. He doesn't like being watched and fussed over. It's a little suffocating. The fact that his boyfriend cannot, relax for one second when there's a new bruise or a hole in his sweater, or even just a tiny little moment of being late, drives him nuts.

He can't take presents well. He gets a lot of things lent. But one can only lie to oneself so far to not see they are specially bought for him.

And when he doesn't accept them, there's a discussion and too many words. One time Thomas just stuffed everything in the trash, but he refrains from doing so now because that's a waste. At least that always ends in some sort of physical territory. Thomas can handle that. He hasn't slept with Maven, but he really doesn't need to. It's not like he has enough nerve to speak about it. He's got zero experience and his rabbit heart wants him to stay away from something that would change things a lot more than they already have. And it's not really the most important thing. Maybe he's just too scared to touch the subject. It's not like they as much as sleep in the same bed. Thomas never stays over and Maven never asks him to. He thinks of the first night he has spent at this house, and the comfortable and satisfying way of falling asleep warm and safe, only to get up and leave. There is still bristling and there are days when he flinches, but there are warmer days too, and he's fine with as much as he can get now.

A relationship is weird and kind of more work than Thomas has ever thought it would be. He's used to flings but when you decide to stay you got to make it worth. And that's not something he's too used to. He's bad at being good at something. Whoever said love conquers all has clearly never really had a lasting relationship.

Because that is freaking work and tears and it hurts.

No one ever told Thomas how much it hurts to love someone and constantly get into a fight with them. Thomas got into a few fights with his family, but that's something else- they never lasted until he left. With Maven there is a constant edge, something nervous, something he can't name. The problems don't change, they just shift position or retreat into the tiniest corner of his mind until they kick one of them in the back. He wants too much too fast and he wants it to stay. He feels him slipping through his fingers. It's always the small things.

Sometimes he wants to bang his head against the wall, or better, that stubborn head of his boyfriend.

He just bites his lip and pushes through.

Surprisingly Maven mother hasn't tried to kill him yet. It's not like they ever meet. But she's made her way down to meet him before. She doesn't know. He's not stupid enough to believe she will let it slide. That woman is a snake, and she's probably curled up in the higher grass and ready to strike.

It's really not like Thomas would meet anyone. He just sneaks up the hills, gets to their house and leaves. Sometimes he wonders what life could be like if he actually would do something. Something legal. He's making some cash here and there, working for Whistle, selling stuff he's conveniently 'found' somewhere.

Money is another thing that's rather icky between them.

It's not like Thomas envies or hates it. He's just freaking full. He wants to have a nice time and he can't if he always thinks he's taking money from Maven for every little thing.

It's four weeks and the end of October is coming fast. The fog clogs the streets and soaks through Thomas coat. No, not really his. Just something else Maven has handed him. It's etched into his skin by now.

The care, the pressure, the long lingering gazes everytime he steps into a room, the flinching when they brush in public.

It's the usual pushing and pulling. One of them asks, the other one answers.

It's a choke hold. But neither will give up and neither wants the other down.

No one can win, really.

Between that, there's always quiet and peaceful moments that make Thomas think staying was the right choice.

He draws from those moments. He doesn't run to anyone to complain. It'd be whining and sobbing every week if he did.

It's really not all bad. It's just mighty different than he's been expecting. Sometimes it's just downright lazy, and warm. Thomas lies on his stomach, scribbling on his arm, occasionally glaring over to his side, watching a hand and a pencil, a book and a concentrated face. There's a soft sound of paper when a page is turned. "You should stop doing that."

The sharpie scratches over Thomas' arm. "HM?"

"It's not toxic but it's really not the best idea."

Thomas makes a little noise but doesn't stop drawing little circles on his arm. "I'm bored. This happens when I am bored. You know me."

Maven's eyes follow the sharpie when Thomas scribbles over his arm again. It's a senseless pattern, variating between circles, lines, and crosses. There's no real order in the variation, it's just arbitrarily repeating itself, whirling around his wrist and the inner side of his arm.

"You could get yourself something to eat. "

Thomas thinks about it for a second, but his stomach is fully happy for once. "No thanks."

"Want to use my laptop?"

"Nah, I'm done with the internet."

"That's probably for the best. My browser history looked like a serial killer was using google, paired with random videos of dogs the last time you did."

Thomas shrugs. "I have questions, y' know, sue me. And dogs are best boys." It takes him a moment to acknowledge the truth. He sighs. "I'd probably just stalk my sister's social media. Don't need that. She's gotten into snapping pictures of food. Why do people do that?"

"Oh Thomas," Maven looks at him like someone would look at a child, knowing what lies before them in this cruel world.

"My phone was stolen the first week I was on the streets, best day of my life."

"Still, "Mavens' eyes look at the sharpie again. "Stop, will you?"

"I am living art." Thomas snorts. "Make me."

Maven puts his book away, leans over the bed and takes away the sharpie. Easy as stealing candy from a baby.

"Mean." Thomas comments. "But effective."

There's something irritated and twitching under the surface, lurking around the whole time, and now it snaps, with a dry voice and a glare. "Seems to be my way."

Thomas shakes his head, flipping on his back. "I'm not going there just because your therapy thing was shit yesterday."

Maven stares at the sharpie in his hand as if it will transform into a magical wand that will solve all their problems. Wingardium Leviosa, Thomas thinks. If that was just possible. "I never told you about that."

_Yeah, why would you?_

There's something coiling under his skin, creeping in his back, and it's ugly. He doesn't want to acknowledge it. He pushes it back, but his words are still a lot harsher than he intended.

"I am stupid but not that dumb. I'd need to be a potato to overlook it. Also, you called it an appointment once." Thomas rolls his eyes. " So what? It's good if you sort things out. You look like someone told you you have cancer."

"I don't exactly sort things out. I don't want to be there." Maven bristles. It's like biting on something hard, hurting teeth and gnawing on resistance.

Ah,its the sort of thing where you keep up the game and hope everyone is allright with it. Like that shitshow counseling. There's a pang of sympathy flaring through Thomas.

Maven sighs. "I mentioned you once."

"Yeah well," It's a little bothering that a stranger knows about things he's never told anyone, about private swallows the words. "I hope nothing too bad."

"It was harmless. I was asked if I had any friends. I just said I had a best friend."

Thomas hasn't had a best friend since elementary school. Not like he had much friends at all until he reached a certain level of pissy charm and  _not gonna take it's_. He is not sure how it all works.

"You're kinda my best friend too. With touchy benefits. I know we're not throwing boyfriend terms around."

Through the slightest of blushes there is appreciation in Mavens' face and for once Thomas is satisfied for behaving like a rational person."You're taking this better than I thought you would."

"I can be an asshole, but that's too low even for me." Thomas shrugs. "You're the one with the borders. I'm all fair game and open."

"Really?" Maven scoffs. "Because you don't have any kind of problem."

"Hell no," Thomas makes a face and takes the challenge ." I have a fuckton of them. I am a hopeless mess. I cut my hair with a rusty scissor over a train station sink last month. I eat trash. And I'm not talking fast food, I mean just real trash. And my father told me to snap out of being gay." The memory makes his stomach violently twist. He smiles it away. "Repeatedly, by the way. He's not so good on that emotional level."

"You never mentioned that."

"Why would I?" He leans back, resting his head on his painted arms. " He's been an ok Dad the rest of my life. He'll come around. And if he doesn't, well I ain't going home anyway."

A pale hand moves over, smoothing his hair, entangling strands, pushing them out of his eyes with gentle strokes."You need a home, Thomas."

"Do I?" Thomas asks, doubting, but surrendering to the touch, closing his eyes. "I mean you have a home and look at you, pretty boy. You aren't happy."

He doesn't need to look up to feel the uneasiness. "That is not the same."

"Isn't it? Okay. Not gonna try and argue." The hand stops and Thomas makes a protesting sound until the touch returns, combing his messy hair back and running slightly over his scalp. "Just saying. We could run away."

"You don't make sense sometimes."

Thomas laughs. "No really! Think about it."

"I do and I don't know if the thought scares me or makes me laugh."

The face he makes when he says that makes Thomas laugh even more.

Despite his encouragement and not making a big deal out of it, he notices the anger and the fear that's behind it all.

He's not sure why he doesn't bother. People flip their shits over mental stuff, don't they? Everything has to be perfect and tidy and the grass has to be cut short and the car to be clean and fuck you if you cannot be a machine.

Thomas ignores the call of the world. He still would not attempt to discourage that little thing going in there. It seems to be freaking upsetting and hard. Something in him even admires he gets there on regular basis.

Maybe it's just because at least one of them makes the attempt to keep it together.

And it's not Thomas, that's for sure.

"You draw a lot of monsters." Maven observes and watches Thomas do the only thing he's really not bad in.

"Yeah, kinda my thing. Scales and claws are good stuff." Real monsters don't need claws to rip you apart. Thomas has learned it by now. "You look tired, you ok, pretty boy?"

Maven hugs his legs and watches him draw.

"Bad dreams?" Thomas can't stop himself. The words are slipping out.

To his surprise he even gets an answer. "Not much dreams at all."

 _"Are_ you even trying to sleep?"

There's the pondering again as if Thomas is going to just straight up jump out of the window. Instead of pressing for an answer he gets back to the drawing. A new monster on a new day full of problems.

* * *

"You can't come around the next days." Maven says when they meet at Thomas new temporary home. It's a construction site that was supposed to be finished months ago, but they just lost the money or taking a very long break. It's lying dormant between skyscrapers and smaller buildings in the city. For some reasons, most other homeless people seem to keep away, though Thomas hasn't found out why. It's a lot of space all for himself and occasionally one or two other guys he doesn't know. No one tries to beat up the other or pick a fight and so he really doesn't care.

At least the skeleton building has a roof and steady walls made of concrete. Thomas climbs the roof, sometimes, but he's gotten lazy over too much eating and not moving much. As it is all that's happening is that he's not quite as skinny as he was in the summer, but by no means fat. His hips are still sticking out, but at least his ribs aren't piercing right through his skin. He's gone from a very wild stray dog to one occasionally being cuddled and tried to domesticate. No collar, though, only his own willingness to stay. Maven hasn't returned any kind of words to him, but he didn't think he would. He is staying, that proves people wrong when they say it doesn't mean as much. Though it still sucks he can't just lean over and kiss his boyfriend.

"What? But it's Halloween! I had plans for you and me. Trick and treat, y'know? But just treats. All kinds of treats."

"It's also my brother's birthday and my father takes the day off." The words behind that twist the dagger that's stuck in his belly for weeks. It's about the secrecy and the stinging knowledge what happens when family isn't welcome of your choices. He knows they'll probably never be official and he doesn't expect a proposal. But damn if it isn't getting him.

Maven sighs. "I know you probably feel left out."

Thomas scratches his chin. "No, you haven't told your parents and I don't wanna ruin your brother's birthday, he's been nicer than I thought."

He doesn't say a word about Elara Merandus on the bench. He can't say for sure what will happen if he does. Maybe more pulling away. He can't afford it. It's a thing between them, and he intends to not take anymore should they ever meet again. No matter how scary or powerful she is.

"It's not because I'm ashamed of you, Thomas." His eyes are looking straight at Thomas when he says it, blue freckled with silver, and Thomas wants nothing more than believe it.

"I know, I get it." Thomas draws the words out, syllables long and trying to sound careless.

He's not really in the mood for company. So he just stays in the concrete walls, curling up until he's tired enough to fall asleep.  
Water dripping from the ceiling wakes him the next morning and he feels lonelier than ever, staring at the naked grey wall.

It's strange. He's so used to something steady and present, however distant that can be, something holding him up and right, that it's almost causing physical pain. Like someone cut off his fingers. He has to concentrate on everything more, even the most simple and boring tasks, cause he worries and his mind drifts.

Being so dependent is all new. He's not sure it's a good thing, wrapping his whole life around Maven like that. He can't help it at the moment.

The rain gets worse and he stays inside his new home, curling into a tight ball and wondering what normal people do at this time of day.  
They get up. They make breakfast. They get to school and work. It's mundane and nothing special but sometimes it's everything he is yearning for. He's said the truth when he told Maven he was a hopeless mess. Laughing and smiling is the best coping he has, and running helps too. Means at least avoiding things.

He wonders if he'll ever settle down again, when he knows for sure he isn't returning home. That's out of question. A few days later he's at least up and moving through town again, but the rain and cold ground has left him a present. He's caught a pretty bad cold, sore throat, and heavy limbs. Really not helpful. He's sneezing and shivering and feels like shit.

"Better not come too close, "he jokes, trying to suppress a cough when Maven stops by the abandoned building after school in the late afternoon.  
"Thomas," There's worry in the way he says his name.  
"No." Thomas shakes his head. "No, really, I'll be fine. I need a nap and a shower, and in no time I will be good again, you'll see. How was your brother's birthday?"

No answer and a glare is enough to tell him it was probably a desaster.

Four days later he's still as sick and his head hurts so much he doesn't want to move. In the last attempt to save his life he crawls to Farley's doorstep. When she sees his feverish face she lets him in without any more comments and he collapses on her uncomfortable couch, curling into a tiny shivering ball.

It takes two more days until he leaves the couch in the dead of night behind.  
He's a sweaty mess and now he looks the homeless part.

His feet drag him to the train station by himself, and he gets lucky. Leaping into the last train, the river moves along the window. Flashes of lights, spread out along the dark night sky. At one point, he sees the big skyscrapers, at another a faint glimpse of the factories in the distance.

He feels guilty. And not at home at all. You can leave the Stilts, someone once said, but the Stilts never really leave you.

Maybe that is the reason he returns now. It would be so damn easy. Go down the street and knock on the door.

Just swallow the hurt and move on somehow.

He can't make another step.

If it was up to the people on top, he could just curl up into a ball and die. Like a rat in the gutter. He's just as filthy and useless.

He stumbles through the streets. If people see him no one cares.

He doesn't know how late it is when he leans against the pay phone and calls the only number he knows straight out of his head. He's never been good with numbers but he had it written on his arms for weeks and he remembers how many times he already had dialed without actually ever calling.

It only takes one tiny moment of silence before Maven picks up.

"Hey, pretty boy." He whispers.

"Where have you been the last week?"

"Did I wake you?" Thomas asks, voice hoarse, not only from his sore throat.

"No. Where are you?"

There's urgency in the question. And something so worried Thomas swallows hard.

"Am allright. Chilling at the Stilts."

"Tell me you're not sleeping outside."

"I am not  _sleeping_ outside, Mave."

There's a indifferent hum. Thomas only answer is a repressed cough.

"I just..kinda missed you."

There's a shaky , small breath, not a laugh and not a sigh and it erupts in Thomas chest like a sun.

"I miss you too."

"Sorry."


End file.
